


We All Have To Die Some Time

by MistoElectra



Category: Days of future past - Fandom, X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, but no one dies really, everyone dies, everyone needs to cry sometimes, i do it regularly over thoughts like these
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 16:37:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7322791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistoElectra/pseuds/MistoElectra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I've watched a lot of people die, good people, friends."</p>
<p>"We all have to die some time."</p>
            </blockquote>





	We All Have To Die Some Time

_“I watched a lot of good people die. Friends.”_

Too many of their kind had been killed in the future. No, too many people in general, there was no point in differentiating anymore. There were so few left, most dead or locked up in one of those camps, being good as dead. Trapped, helpless, facing certain death. No matter where you were in the future, you were as good as dead. And that was why he had to change it. If he failed this now? He had failed all of them.

He’d watched several die. They replayed behind his eyelids every time he closed them.

One stood out in particular, and he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was his mind telling him to seek the mutant out, even if he didn’t know where he was. He had a feeling that they might need his help.

Pietro Maximoff.

By the time of his death, Logan had known him pretty well. They’d first met at some point in the 80s when, for some godforsaken reason, they’d ended up in the same bar beside each other, and for some other godforsaken reason, they had ended up discussing their abilities over pints of beer that wasn’t affecting Pietro all that much and which had become a regular thing for Logan. That night they’d said their goodbyes, neither promising to keep in touch.

And yet for some reason, they’d kept running into each other. He’d seen in the news when the kid had managed to break multiple world records and get banned from sporting events all in the one day. It had been impressive really, and the exact cocky act that he would expect from the kid.

He had also sort of expected that the kid was probably behind several bank robberies, but it turned out that he did have some sort of morals, twisted though they might be. He’d also found out after a number of years that the metal controlling asshole was the kid’s father, and while he could see the similarities in a way, he could also see how the two did not get on in the slightest, as proven by the fact that Pietro had ran several hundred miles just to punch Magneto in the face.

Okay, so that had made him chuckle a bit.

The speedster had occasionally visited the mansion, mostly found mooching around the kitchen and eating half the contents of the cupboards before cheerfully flipping off who ever scolded him and disappearing.

The kid had style.

And when everything had gone to hell, he’d shown up. Alone.

They’d tried to ask him where Wanda was, but until the moment he died, he never said a word.

He’d been a useful asset in their teams, his speed granting him the ability to keep a frequent lookout and scout out an area in a few seconds flat. He’d been able to plough through some of the sentinels and keep them occupied while giving the others time to get everyone out, to get everything sorted out. Until suddenly, he couldn’t.

Like everything that seemed to happen around Pietro Maximoff, it had happened quickly, suddenly, out of nowhere. They had been getting out of a base, under attack as usual, and Pietro had been the one evacuating them. He was taking people two at a time, running them to a considerable distance before returning for more. And they had thought that they’d all gotten away safely when he’d arrived with the last two, with Bobby and Roberto.

Until the white haired man had stumbled, and everyone’s eyes had went to the gaping wound in his chest.

It had been as if time itself had frozen, horror spread across everyone’s faces as the speedster stumbled, once, twice, before going crashing to the ground, being caught just in time by Magneto himself. Even while fighting on the same team, the two hadn’t really gotten on, and had spent any time they had to together squabbling. But now, that was all forgotten. The seemingly uncaring mutant leader, that facade was all gone, and now the elderly man was cradling his son in his arms.

As much as Logan wished to look away, he found that he couldn’t. The man who he’d been friendly with for almost forty years was dying and he couldn’t look away.

He could see it happening, knew that there was no hope for the speedster anymore. He was struggling to breathe, and attempting to speak, but Magneto was hushing him gently. It was strange to see him being so gentle, so kindly, but perhaps it was the fatherly instinct in him coming out at last. From his distance, he couldn’t hear what was being said, but the small smile on Pietro’s face said it all.

It seemed a shame that it had taken them until Pietro’s death bed to finally reconcile.

And then it ended, he could see the white haired man’s breathing stutter to a halt and his eyes go glassy as his body went limp in his father’s arms. The elderly man seemed to wilt before their eyes, hunching over his only son and only moving to reach up and close his eyes.

Pietro Maximoff was dead.

And to those who looked closely enough, a part of Erik Lehnsherr died as well.

_We all have to die some time._

Blinking, Logan shook his head and retreated from the memory back into the present (past?).

No. He would not mess this up, he would fix this. He had to. For all those who had died in the struggle against the Sentinels.

For Charles Xavier.

For Bobby, Kitty, for Rogue, Piotr, Roberto and Blink, for Warpath, Bishop, Storm.

For Wanda Maximoff.

For Pietro Maximoff.

And, goddamnit, for Erik Lehnsherr too.


End file.
